


Making Up For The Silence

by thesewordselope (jadebloods)



Category: X-Men (Movies)
Genre: Character Study, F/M, Implied Relationships, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-05
Updated: 2012-04-05
Packaged: 2017-11-03 01:58:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/375836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jadebloods/pseuds/thesewordselope
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three times that it wasn't the way it was supposed to be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Making Up For The Silence

**Author's Note:**

> Missing scenes from X3. Originally posted to the xmmff LJ community on May 29, 2006.

**one.**

He found himself sticking around when it wasn't really necessary, for no discernable reason other than the fact that she knew what he was feeling without him having to say it. Talking about feelings wasn't exactly his thing. He didn't have to say things like _I don't feel like I have the right to even mourn her in the way that I want to_ , because she'd already be there with an old photograph or an amusing anecdote from their days as students. It helped, because one of the things he regretted the most was that he'd never had the chance to know Jean in that capacity. He hadn't grown up with her the way the rest of them had. 

He knew that on a certain level, Ororo loathed his very nature. She was a sturdy figure, a mother goddess in every sense. They all knew she'd inherit the position of headmistress after Xavier passed on, in one way or another. Indeed, while to Xavier's face she would modestly say that she expected him to pass ownership of the school to Scott, secretly she felt like it was something Xavier owed to her. Her mother's people, the Kikuyu, had had a matrilineal society after all, and in her mind she was entitled to be in more of a position of leadership than she'd been allowed so far. She felt unsettled in this place, where Salem Center had passed from father to son for generations, culminating in the ownership by one Charles Xavier. She had admitted all this to him in the thin hours of the night over Pinot Noir (for her) and Corona (for him). Her second-wave feminism made it hard for her to reconcile with him, and he knew this. He also didn't care, which infuriated her even more. It wasn't that he had anything against feminism, but his general apathy towards everything political was a constant point of contention between them. She didn't get his moral ambiguity, nor his tendency to abandon matters of principle for the sake of personal relationships. She understood his need to be constantly moving least of all. 

He only kissed her when they were both angry. Part of it was to shut her up and part of it was to keep himself from leaving again. Part of it was because he needed to feel _something_ other than loss, and part of it was because he knew she only got mad at him because she wanted to hate him and couldn't. She would hate herself instead for letting him kiss her, for not being able to push him away and not being able to make herself _want_ to. And that-- that was something Logan could relate to. They both couldn't help feeling that none of this was the way it was supposed to be. 

**two.**

He could sense the beast within before she ever opened her eyes. Phoenix chose not to identify herself, possibly because she knew she didn't have to. Hadn't he been there already, after all? Hadn't he been the one lying on the observation table, jerking awake and letting instinct take over before he knew what was happening? She grabbed his arm, and it was so base an action, so unlike the Jean Grey he had known, who had been cerebral to a fault. For a moment, he almost knew. He almost understood what was happening, and why, and what the Phoenix wanted with him, though he didn't have a name for it. But then she opened her eyes, and she was Jean again. 

Every time they kissed, she had been a completely different person. The first Jean had been too afraid to enjoy it. Too afraid of him, too afraid of herself and her own intentions, too afraid of challenging the life of so-called domestic bliss that had already been dealt to her. She didn't have the best hand in the world, but it was a safe hand. She knew that there were one or two cards in the deck that would make her happier than this, that would set her free in ways that being married to Scott never could, but she also knew that if she kept calling for a hit, eventually she would bust. She wouldn't dare risk losing everything to take a chance on Logan. 

And the second time? Well, the second time, Jean had been Mystique. That had been a completely different experience in and of itself, and he'd had to force himself not to give in to the illusion. No matter how much he had longed for a release, he didn't want her unless it was _her_. He also knew that if she stayed true to herself, he would never have her, and that had caused him almost as much pain as when he thought he'd lost her forever. 

This time she was all fire and pure, pulsing desire. He felt it on her skin like a fever, like an electric current in the air between them. He tried to hold himself back but there was nothing to do but give in, for how could he hold his baser instincts at bay when she had a fury inside of her that took complete control over everything in the room? He wanted to fuck her like the animals they both were, wanted to possess her the way the Phoenix had possessed them both, until all conscious thought was extinct and his sex was spent. He almost gave in to her, and would have, if not for the fact that Phoenix chose that moment to manifest herself in the irises of Jean's eyes. In that moment, he knew. He knew that this wasn't the way it was supposed to be. 

**three.**

He was the first person she sought out when she returned. In her mind, he was the only person who would really understand her decision. On some level they both knew that out of all the people in Salem Center, they were the only ones who would understand the other's constant need to react immediately to any given situation. More often than not, their instincts told them to go off on their own, and that suited them just fine, even if it was hard to fathom for the people they loved. They had shared that much in common even before she had absorbed so much of his personality. Maybe that was why she had such a huge, unshakeable crush on him. And despite his better judgment, he couldn't help indulging her just a little bit, possibly even for the same reason. He'd never taken it very far-- just a painfully brief touch on the shoulder here, a purposefully ambiguous compliment there. 

She didn't miss her powers, but she actually missed having Logan inside her head. The part of him that had always been with her was what made it bearable for her when she couldn't touch him the way she wanted to. She could touch herself instead, and since part of her _was_ him, it was the next closest thing. She let his personality take over, let his thoughts of her that she had stolen drift to the front of her mind. She knew he was attracted to her in his own way, and even if she knew she'd never be his number one, it didn't matter. It didn't matter as long as she managed to get the share of him that belonged to her. Although, she guessed that none of that mattered anymore, now that she could touch him for real. Still, she felt way too alone inside her own head. 

He found her already in his bedroom when he returned from the nightmare at Worthington Labs. He let her stay, mostly because he needed something to distract his senses since he couldn't dull them with alcohol or other chemicals. She knew he was using her, but that was okay. Neither of them said anything at first. He shut the bedroom door and began taking off his battle-worn clothes under the cover of the thin darkness of the night, intending to change into something not ripped to shreds. Her eyes, having already adjusted to the dark, didn't miss a thing. She stopped him with a hand on his shoulder before he could strip off the very last of his clothing, and that gesture told him everything he needed to know. He knew what she had done, and knew what she wanted. 

He asked her why she was here instead of Bobby's room, and she told him, _because I've wanted this even longer than that_. And, unsaid, because she wanted revenge on Bobby for his too-close-for-comfort friendship with Kitty. And also because, in the end, she _had_ done this for herself and not for Bobby. These were good enough reasons for Logan, so when she leaned in to kiss him, he didn't protest. When she pulled him into the bed on top of her, he didn't protest. They both had wanted it since before either of them knew that anyone else at Salem Center even existed, and it was exactly the way they had imagined it would be. But they knew it wouldn't last beyond tonight, because it still wasn't the way it was _supposed_ to be.


End file.
